


To Be Yours

by JainaDurron7



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOSF SPOILERS, F/M, Mating Bond, Post-ACOSF, Wedding, mating ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29718222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JainaDurron7/pseuds/JainaDurron7
Summary: MAJOR ACOSF SPOILERS!!!Post-ACOSFMy take on Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	To Be Yours

“You’re stunning, Nesta,” Elain chirped with a generous smile, tucking the last hairpins into place. “Cassian will lose his mind the moment he sees you.”

Across the room, Feyre groaned. “By the stars! If Cassian doesn’t keep it in his pants until you guys leave—”

Nesta couldn’t help her laugh as she spun to face her youngest sister who stood cradling her newborn babe to her chest. “Why, aren’t you one to talk? It hardly took you and Rhys a few months to conceive!”

“Cauldron, Nesta! That’s what I’m saying! The two of you are worse than  _ us!” _

Nesta grinned, pointedly not objecting. But she turned to the middle Archeron sister, asking, “Elain?”

“Oh, no! I’ve had enough of the four of you. I ought to get my own place outside of Velaris to avoid you all.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Rhys and I always use a shield to block—”

“And very little good it does when you two finally get out of bed and reek—!”

Laughter erupted from Nesta and her sisters joined her at once. Perhaps, because they still weren’t used to the sight. Nesta could hardly blame them; she was still unaccustomed to the new joy which had planted itself deeply and firmly in her soul, a light she never saw fading. It glowed even brighter now, making a physical appearance in her demeanor as Feyre and Elain helped her prepare.

For the mating ceremony between her and Cassian.

They had both accepted the bond, had consummated their bond many times over since they’d been reunited following the Blood Rite. But this would be their wedding, of sorts. An official declaration of the two of them accepting the mating bond and each other as their mates.

Mates.

Nesta had done a fair amount of thinking over the mating bond, what it meant to be mates, whether she wanted to have a mating ceremony with Cassian or marry him. “I don’t care,” Cassian had insisted when they’d first talked about it. “I’ll do it all with you if that’s what you want. Or, I’ll marry you and that will be more than enough.”

She hadn’t truly understood the significance of having a mate, the decision to opt for a mating ceremony when a couple could be married. To be married had been the greatest achievement for a couple on the other side of the wall. To marry was to have someone invested with special law-ordained powers bear witness as a couple made their vows of love and dedication to one another, to make a dozen promises to have and to hold and to cherish as long as they both shall live.

What more did it mean to be mates? To have a mating ceremony versus a wedding?

There was still a choice in the bond, in accepting Cassian as her mate. And that is where Nesta had found the power in it. That some force beyond her understanding, the powers that be, had seen her person and Cassian’s and recognized them as equals. That such a circumstance deserved a special connection. That, against all odds, Nesta and Cassian had found their ways to each other, gotten to know each other, and they both had made the decision that the powers that be were more right than they’d perhaps expected. That their souls were meant to be forged into one, that they fit so perfectly together that a dozen promises to love and to hold and to cherish couldn’t cover it.

This was sacred. In a way that marriage woefully wasn’t.

There would be no one else. For either of them.

No one would ever be able to match her soul like Cassian, to understand her, to have such unrestricted access to both her heart and her mind.

She was his mate, and she belonged wholly to him. Just as Cassian was hers, and he belonged wholly to her.

Nesta looked once more in the mirror, admiring Elain’s completed handiwork. Her dress was white if only out of human tradition, a lacy collar hugging half her neck, lending way to a form-fitting bodice that showed off her breasts and newly-sculpted abdominal muscles without revealing skin, lacy quarter sleeves that covered her shoulders, and finally a loose skirt that pooled at her feet, accentuated with a small train. Feyre and Elain had cried at the sight when Nesta had selected the dress, both rather surprised by their eldest sister’s feminine and somewhat fancy taste. By most measures, the gown was more simple, not so big and flowing or encrusted with thousands of gems or cut to reveal her sightly legs or chest. It was modest and almost plain save for the lacework embellishing every inch.

Yes, the dress was a mortal tradition Nesta didn’t mind keeping. The ceremony would be a mix of valued Fae and human traditions alike. Though, part of Nesta mourned that she would not be taking Cassian’s name if only to leave her old life truly behind. She’d asked. He had none to give her, and he’d smiled, saying that he would love to take hers. In the end, they’d decided it was entirely unnecessary. He would still be Cassian and she would still be Nesta Archeron. All that mattered was that they were mates and they were the beginning of their own family now.

Nesta started, her focus returning to the moment as Elain took out the bouquet and handed it to her. It was a small arrangement that fit in her two hands, handpicked from one of Elain’s gardens, a handful of amaryllises, red as Cassian’s Siphons. Elain had dragged her to her personal favorite garden in the back of Rhys and Feyre’s river home, thrown out an arm, and begged Nesta to pick. “Any of them! Whatever you want, and I will make you a bouquet for the ceremony.”

Feyre had swallowed thickly at the sight of the red flowers but found the strength to smile. “Fitting,” she’d said, as the amaryllis often symbolized love, beauty, and determination.

Nesta accepted the bouquet, took a shuddering breath. She looked up to see both of her sisters smiling at her— Feyre knowingly, Elain purely happily.

“Ready?” Feyre grinned.

All it took was a little smile from Nesta before the three sisters were in each other’s arms, baby Nyx squished between them.

“Oh, no!” Feyre abruptly pulled away, wiping the sleeve of her own dress across Nyx’s nose. “You aren’t getting Aunt Nes’s dress all dirty before Uncle Cass even sees her!”

Elain chuckled, but Nesta was mesmerized. That same happiness that Feyre had— with Rhys, with the Inner Circle— Nesta had that too. She had a family, found one, made one, found a place for herself in Rhysand’s court. And one day—

For a moment, Nyx fussed in Feyre’s arms as his mother cleaned up his face, but he quickly settled, resting peacefully in his mother’s hold. Where he ought to know he was loved.

One day, Nesta wanted that too. With Cassian. To see their happiness and love manifested in such an ethereal way.

But that thought was for the future, she reminded herself, tucking it away in the back of her mind. She turned to the door and Elain straightened the dress, she and Feyre following Nesta on her way to the temple.

* * *

It was a small sanctuary situated on one end of Rhysand and Feyre’s riverside property. It was a small space, more of just a room, with a domed ceiling and dim lighting. Just three pews lined either side of the center aisle, rather squished close to the altar where Cassian and the priestess already stood. Lights twinkled across the room, around the dome above, tangled up in the dozens of flower arrangements adorning the walls.

It was only a matter of several steps before Nesta reached the altar, Feyre and Elain filing into the front pew alongside Rhys. Front row on the other side sat Emerie and Gwyn. Azriel, Amren, and Mor took up a third row. Just their family, the only people they needed here today.

But Nesta only had eyes for her mate. Her mate. Hers.

“You sure you want a whole mating ceremony?” Cassian had asked late one night, one of the few nights between their reunion and today.

“You are mine,” Nesta had growled, biting into his shoulder, scraping her teeth along his warm, golden skin. “And everyone else has to deal with that.”

Today, he was clean shaven, and a considerable part of Nesta longed for the dark stubble that typically shadowed his face. His long hair was tied back in a little bun. Nesta’s body screamed with need at that touch alone. Stars, she loved his hair and when he put it up like that! Cassian’s hazel eyes gleamed with joy— so much joy. Overwhelming, suffocating joy.

He stood tall and proud, gaze equally stuck on her. He was proud, proud to be seen with her, proud to claim her, proud to stand before his family and take Nesta as his mate.

And she was  _ honored _ to claim him.

Cassian took her hand as Nesta took the final step onto the altar, his calloused hand engulfing hers. The priestess— a shrouded figure Nesta only knew was called Hera— prayed over their entwined hands, and then Nesta and Cassian kneeled before each other.

* * *

He was her home. He was her strength. He was her calm. He was her joy. Her reason, her faith, her courage to face her own darkness. She had always known this, always seen this in him— her other half, her perfect equal in every way. Her mate.

She thought of all the homes she’d known through her life, from the stuffy, unlivable mansion her family had so long ago occupied to the rotting cottage in the village to the rundown apartment on the outskirts of Velaris. None of those— not one of them— not a single room that had been labeled hers had felt like a true home, like a place she had claim to or wanted to claim.

Until him.

In his arms, under him, in him, ensconced in the embrace of his wings.

He was her home, her mate. 

And, of all the joys she’d discovered in the last year, all the reasons to keep fighting and to go on living— he was the greatest one.

* * *

Eldest of the Archeron sisters, Kingslayer, Cauldron-Made, Mother-blessed, Lady of Death. His mate.

Mates were like a fable, an ancient story told to young children on sleepy nights.  _ Oh, mates are real, _ a mother might insist to her children.  _ Rare as they are, mates are real. And shall the Cauldron bless you so, you might find yours. _

To Cassian, mates had been a fairytale, a dream he may have mused over once or twice. Him! To have a mate! But enter Feyre Archeron, the precipice in upending Prythian, the Night Court, and the Inner Circle’s lives as they’d known them.

His dear brother’s mate. Of course, Rhysand had a mate. He deserved it, deserved that happiness after all he’d endured for Cassian’s and Azriel’s and Mor’s and Amren’s sakes during Amarantha’s reign. He had deserved happiness, a partner, his equal in every way, someone to share his throne and his immortal life with.

Then, the mating bond became less fairytale to Cassian and more a dream. A desperate longing he might have groveled for if he had less pride. He wanted that. No more games, no more dancing between the females of Velaris, no more baseless flirting with Mor. He wanted happiness, love. Peace.

Enter Nesta Archeron.

Nesta with the viper tongue, cold touch, flaming gaze sharp like hunting knives. Nesta who radiated a chilled sort of calm, whose eyes burned with the fury of a forest fire. Nesta who was anything but calm and peaceful and happy.

Yes, that was his mate.

He’d guessed at their connection the moment they met, when he had first met both of Feyre’s sisters at the new Archeron manor where Nesta Arhceron had stood rigid-backed, stone-faced as she met her visitors.

That fire in her eyes had called to Cassian, sung to him the moment his gaze first met hers. He was hardly sure then, but the word had flitted across his mind:  _ mate. _ And his conviction had only grown stronger each moment he spent in her presence.

His equal, most certainly. They battled wills and wits and words every time they crossed paths. Anger, impatience, intrigue. Desire. Nesta had stirred all of these in him from day one. He’d balked when he could hold off his doubts no longer.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Of course, the Cauldron  _ blessed _ him with a mate.

Of course, the Cauldron chose  _ her _ as his mate. A viper with fangs and scales and the hissing to match.

Of course, Nesta Archeron was his mate.

But it was simultaneously the viper that drew him in. He’d take those venomous fangs right in the neck, and he couldn’t find it in him to resent himself for that. Or, to resent her. No, he didn’t mind dancing with the viper, exchanging blow for blow.

Especially once he caught sight of her soft underbelly, the vulnerable skin she kept shielded from the world with her great walls of iron.

But he … he was her equal. He alone could slip past her defenses, and he somehow had, somehow snuck under her guard and made it to the soft underbelly of the viper.  _ That is where you strike, _ he’d heard some whisper.  _ You have the aim for the killing blow. _

But it had been far too late. Rather, Cassian had never desired to hurt her, to plant revenge for the one-sided story of Archeron family history he’d gleaned from Feyre. No, there was so much more to the viper— to the witch, as others called her.

She was fragile and bruised and hurting, her leather skin having taken too many hits. No one else had approached the viper close enough to gaze into her soft eyes, to acknowledge her fragile demeanor, to see the walls already shaking. To see the young female who liked to curl up in a chair in a quiet library, biting the corner of her lip as she reads steamy books. The female who loved music, who smiled at the simplest symphonies and could find her soul in the sweeping steps of any dance. Her pride, her need for strength, to stand on her own feet and take every hit thrown her way. Her determination, to stay standing, to keep fighting, to never fall, to never be weak.

His equal. His mate.

How could the Cauldron have blessed him so?

He asked himself this as Nesta entered the temple and approached. Stunning. Flawless. Stars above, was she beautiful! He may have forgotten to take his next breath. Next two. Those keen, blue-gray eyes, the sharp corners to her cheeks and chin and nose which hardly needed the enhancement of makeup but were lightly dusted in kohl and blush anyway. And the anticipation, the pure joy in her little smile …

It was a new look, and Cassian put a pin in it, immediately committing it to his memory. He named it … her  _ I Want To Marry You, Take You Home, And Then Take You Over And Over For The Next Week _ look.

Cassian came undone.

When Nesta reached the altar, he took her hand, her pale, soft fingers engulfed in his. Though, with all her recent training, she was building generous calluses on her own hands, and that realization sent a flicker of pride shooting through him.

His beautiful mate, his perfect equal.

She smiled at him, true joy shining in her eyes. And then he and Nesta kneeled before each other.

* * *

The priestess wore her hood over her face so as to focus the attention on her words and on the couple before her. The only hints of the priestess that Nesta registered were her words. Every other ounce of her attention was fixed on the male before her.

Cassian’s soft, hazel gaze, the thrill flickering just behind his lips, the way his wings were flared slightly behind him— a position they tended to take that Nesta had learned to read as pride. And the golden threads between them, joining their souls, a beautiful harp they formed together. The instrument they were, the song they played … it was the greatest melody Nesta had ever heard. And she wanted to spend the rest of her immortal life with Cassian dancing to it.

Golden threads. Those beautiful, golden threads.

The priestess had just finished a litany of prayers and thanksgiving, inciting the blessings of the Mother— not the Cauldron— when she turned her attention to the couple and Nesta remembered herself. She startled when the priestess spoke, and Nesta caught Cassian’s laugh in his eyes.

“Nesta and Cassian, I am assured this is a love match as the two of you have requested that you be married in addition to mated. I implore now that you have both come here of sound mind and clear thinking. That neither of you hold any judgements or reservations concerning the bond between you. And if either of you feel any reluctance or hold any judgements or reservations concerning being married or mated, I suggest that you voice them now.”

Silence.

_ I choose you. I choose this. I choose to be your mate. _

“Very well,” the priestess finally spoke again, and there was a gentle smile to her tone.

She continued, “Nesta, are you aware of the mating bond between you and Cassian? The unique, powerful, rare, and intimate bond entwining your souls?”

Nesta raised and lowered her chin in a small nod. “I am.”

Cassian beamed.

“And Cassian. Are you aware of the mating bond between you and Nesta? The unique, powerful, rare, and intimate bond entwining your souls?”

Cassian’s beam transformed into a grin. “I am.”

“May we all be witnesses to this couple’s testimony that they are, indeed, aware of their mating bond and have come to this temple in recognition of the bond between them.

“And with that, I shall now ask … Nesta Archeron, as you are aware of the mating bond between you and Cassian, do you agree with this match that the Mother herself has made, recognizing Cassian as your immortal partner, your equal in every way?”

“Yes.”

“And do you accept Cassian as your mate?”

Nesta’s lips twitched with her bright smile, her entire being illuminating with a joy she wouldn’t have thought possible only months ago. Thanks to Cassian. Her love, her immortal partner. Her mate. The one who had stood at her side from beginning to end, had held her up and never given up on her for a moment. The one who had believed in her, loved her in spite of her darkness and fire and claws. Who had loved the wolf inside her when she could not. And who had never shrunk back from the cold, silver fire that had turned away everyone else.

She still struggled to fathom how she could be worthy of this great man’s dedication and gentleness and love, but Nesta knew that she was. She was worthy of his love, and she was blessed with it. And she thanked the Mother for it as she vowed before Cassian, “I do.”

Her eyes never left Cassian’s for a moment, and she was glad of it so she witnessed his expression the moment she said those words, how the color erupted across his cheeks and his eyes shone with a happiness Nesta never wanted to see fade.

She made her own vow to herself that she would spend every day of the rest of their immortal lives trying to keep that pure, unadulterated happiness there.

With that powerful bond between them, its full might and capabilities still so new between them, Nesta sent her promises through her thoughts, sending them sailing down the new channel now wide open between them.  _ Yes, I accept you, _ she assured him.  _ I love you. I want you. I claim you. You can have me. I am yours. As much as I want you to be mine. _

She knew that Feyre and Rhysand could communicate as effectively through their minds as physically speaking to one another, and she wasn’t sure that her and Cassian’s bond worked the same way. But she took in a sharp breath of surprise when she felt Cassian’s presence touch down on her own mind, his thoughts leaking into hers as he sent his response back down that channel. Though no words as clear as speaking came through, Nesta felt his response, a sensation so unique Nesta would never be able to describe it or how she perfectly understood that simple touch may as well have been Cassian whispering in her ear,  _ then, I am yours. Wholly and eternally. I am yours. _

“Cassian, I now ask you as you are aware of the mating bond between you and Nesta, do you agree with this match that the Mother herself has made, recognizing Nesta as your immortal partner, your equal in every way?”

“Yes.”

“And do you accept Nesta Archeron as your mate?”

“I do.”

His mate. She was his.

From beside her, the priestess took up a small, silver platter on which sat two small biscuits. Neither she nor Cassian had cared what food they used for this part of the ceremony and had sent off Emerie just minutes beforehand to pick a pastry for them both. The priestess held the plate before them. “As is traditional in both ceremonies and in private between new mates, Nesta and Cassian will now offer each other food to symbolize their mutual acceptance of the mating bond.”

Nesta picked one of the identical pastries, held it delicately between her fingers, and raised it to Cassian’s lips. He grinned as he leaned in to take the whole biscuit into his mouth, and his tongue quickly swiped upside her finger— supposedly to catch any crumbs.

Two could play that game, Nesta decided as Cassian swallowed and licked jam from his lips.

He plucked the second biscuit from the platter to offer Nesta. She offered her own feral grin as she opted to bite into the biscuit, sending red jam oozing out and spilling down Cassian’s fingers. Her eyes never left his even as she ducked her head forward and sucked the jam from each individual finger.

Nesta was deaf to the hushed chuckles from their assembled family and friends, but she did not miss his groan and the twinkle in his eyes promising revenge. She didn’t dare look any lower.  _ Later. Tonight, mate. I will let you have your full revenge. _

But her toes curled in her slippers as the mating bond sealed itself, and Nesta could see the fervent hunger rising in Cassian’s gaze too.

“I shall now invite Cassian and Nesta’s family and friends for this final part of the ceremony,” the priestess announced, breaking them from their reverie. The platter out of the sight, the priestess now held up a length of black ribbon. Neither Cassian nor Nesta broke their stares as their family came forward. Feyre, Rhys, Elain, Azriel, Mor, Amren, Emerie, and Gwyn all kneeled around Nesta and Cassian. Feyre took the ribbon first, crossing it over their two joined hands. She handed it across their circle to Amren who crossed it back under to Rhys who handed it to Elain, to Gwyn, to Emerie, to Azriel, to Mor. Then back to Feyre who knotted the black ribbon and tested it once for its strength. She smirked at her sister and friend, stepping back and nodding with approval. Their friends and family stepped away, retreating to the edge of the altar while the priestess finished.

The priestess, Hera, tugged at the knot once for herself and smiled. “Then, what the Mother has brought together, no one shall separate. Congratulations, Nesta and Cassian. May the Cauldron bless this bond.”

A kiss wasn’t required as the formal end to the mating ceremony, but Cassian could no longer hold himself back and he swept her into his arms anyway. Nesta heard a stitch in her dress rip, but she couldn’t find the mind to care as she hooked her legs around Cassian’s waist and met his mouth measure for measure. Their family roared and cheered, doubly so when Cassian raked his free hand— still wet with Nesta’s spit— through her impeccably combed-up hair, tangling with the braided crown atop her head.

Nesta was minutely aware of their friends cheering and parting as Cassian rushed from the temple with her still in his arms. She held onto him with her free arm looped behind his neck, and she itched to free the other so she could touch him, take him now. Cassian seemed to be thinking the same as he growled, hand twitching, mouth still working feverishly against hers.

Before Nesta knew it, they were outside of Feyre and Rhys’s riverside home, and Cassian’s wings snapped open to catch the breeze and take flight.

Home. They would go home first, free themselves of this stupid black ribbon, and let their party wait until their appetites were sated.

Though, Nesta wasn’t sure hers could ever be as the mating bond was now wide open and fully operative between them. Yes, she could hear Cassian’s thoughts like words and send her own back, but they didn’t need words for this communication, this expression of want and need. Without words, without touch, she could still clearly read Cassian’s thoughts, his explosive need that matched her own.

_ Now, _ he said without saying anything as they landed gracelessly on a balcony of the House of Wind, immediately stumbling across the floors until Nesta’s back met a wall.  _ I want you now. Tomorrow. Forever. _

Their party would wait. Nesta was sure their friends and family would be in no less cheer when they returned to celebrate their union.

For now, however …

_ You are mine, _ they promised to each other in the midst of pants and thrusts and cries.  _ Now and forever, you are my mate. _


End file.
